


Birdsong

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Conrad Achenleck learns to appreciate what he once considered a nuisance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birdsong

He'd lived in this apartment for several years now, and ever since the first night he spent there, he'd been plagued by that goddamn nightingale. _'Will you shut UP?!'_ he thought at it angrily, as he buried his head under his pillow every evening. The stupid thing must have been out to annoy him, for it perched right on the telephone wires _right_ outside his bedroom window and began to sing its ridiculous song _exactly_ two minutes after he went to bed. Every single night. 

His methods of dealing with the creature differed depending on his mood. Most nights he tried to ignore it, and succeeded in falling to sleep in maybe half an hour. Other times he tried to drown the noise with his favorite music, but most times found that to be even more distracting. Once or twice he'd gotten so frustrated that he actually opened up his window and threw something heavy at the bird. (He missed, but he still felt sort of guilty about it afterward.) 

Eventually, the nightingale's racket became a normality and his ire towards the thing faded to mild annoyance. 

And then he became a vampire, and therefore forced into a nocturnal lifestyle. The first few mornings he was so worn out from the change that he fell to sleep immediately, but a few days later he'd regained enough energy to be properly aggravated once more. 

Now, instead of a single solitary songbird, his sleeping hours were assaulted by the cacophonous chorus of chirping, chattering, trilling feathered _demons_. _'Go to SLEEP!'_ he whined at them, but to no avail. This had been their morning routine for years. Generations, in fact. And nature dictated it remain that way. 

With great annoyance, he covered his head with as many pillows and blankets as he could find, and hoped sleep would take him quickly. 

When he awoke, he was greeted by the cheerful nightingale's song. As the nights became more lonely, and the sad fact of his dark new life slowly sunk in, he began to smile at its insistent nocturnal calling. Some evenings he laid in bed an extra few minutes, his eyes still shut, and listened to the sound, pretending it was the first birdsong of the day, not the last, and that he'd soon get out of bed, dress for a normal day, and wander out into the sunlight like he used to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Conrad: It's actually a Northern Mockingbird. I wiki'd it the other day. We don't have nightingales in America, even if they are practically the same thing.
> 
> Quickest and most spontaneous thing I've ever written, btw. AND based off a true story. Sort of. Based off a true mockingbird anyway.


End file.
